Sky's POV
Rule One of being the daughter of Christian Valen:
Never let them see the mess.
Rule Two: You are the goddamn standard. You don't slip. You don't stumble. You do not show up to class with Maddox-shaped bruises painting your collarbones like war marks.
I'm currently breaking both.
I yank up the neckline of my cream turtleneck until I'm practically being choked by modesty. The sleeves are long enough to cover the wrist bruises. The concealer's working overtime. Hair's down, heavy and sleek, hiding what it can't erase.
Still—my neck stings every time I move.
And the ache between my thighs? Criminal.
Fitting, since the lecture is Criminal Law.
I slide into the lecture hall, ten minutes early—because Sky Valen is always early—and immediately feel him.
Ray fucking Maddox, already in my seat, lounging like he owns the place. Same black hoodie from last night, curls slightly messy. And that smirk.
Of course he smirks.
He watches me walk like he knows exactly why I'm wincing. I swear under my breath and take the seat next to him, jaw tight.
He leans in, voice low and sinful.
"You wore a turtleneck in May. How adorable."
"Touch me and I'll castrate you."
"You didn't seem to mind touching me last night."
I stare straight ahead, sipping my vanilla oat latte like it's holy water. He nudges my thigh with his.
Subtle. Slow. Deliberate.
"You're limping, Sky."
"I'm also packing pepper spray."
He huffs a dark laugh and goes back to his notes—briefly. Then his fingers slide over my knee, under the table.
I slap them off without looking.
He leans in again. "You missed a spot."
My eyes whip to him. "What?"
"Left side. Collarbone. Purple. Peeking."
Panic. Absolute panic.
I grab my compact mirror, twist sideways, and fuck—he's right. The concealer's cracked. I reapply like my life depends on it. Which it might. Because if my dad finds out…
As if summoned by fear, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Dad
"Lunch today. Don't be late. And tell me what happened to my car—"
My heart lurches.
Ray watches me pale and raises an eyebrow. "Daddy dearest?"
I don't answer.
Instead, I just press my hands over my neck like I can smother the truth away. Ray leans in one last time and whispers so low, I swear I feel it in my spine—
"I marked you for a reason."
I grit my teeth, keep my head high, and pretend like I don't want him to do it all over again tonight.